Reality, Enough
by Xenia van Hausen
Summary: Arthur was real. He was real. They were real. Everyone else was wrong. Alfred knew what he saw. They were real. Everyone was wrong. Alfred didn't need to separate dreams from reality. His dreams were real. They didn't understand. Arthur...he only needed Arthur. Arthur understood. Arthur was there. Yes...yes, Arthur was with him, and that was all Alfred needed.
1. Chapter 1

_August 4, 2012_

_I should be working on Last Minute Memories (which I certainly am), but I wanted to write something short, too. Hopefully I'll finish this in a few days.  
_

* * *

**Reality, Enough**

This was real. _They _were real.

Alfred smiled down at the man leaning on his shoulder, watching as his chest rose and fell silently, lightly. Maybe reality wasn't so bad after all.

Alfred hated reality. His parents always told him _his dreams weren't real. He shouldn't listen to them. _He wouldn't listen. He refused to believe that all that he loved wasn't real.

_ You're mixing them up, Alfred. _No, he wasn't. _That was in your dream, wasn't it? _No, it was _real! _

_ Alfred, dear, listen to me. _No, believe him! Alfred _knew _what he saw. _Come with us… _and they were dragging him. Dragging him into the car as he thrashed and yelled and shouted. No, _no, NO!_

"Alfred!"

Everything came tumbling down and he saw black. Alfred shakily opened his eyes again, hearing his own heavy breath. Wide, green eyes stared back at him, worried and urgent. "Alfred, breath."

And Alfred did. He breathed deeply, shutting his eyes and opening them, reaching his trembling hand to Arthur's. "Yeah…"

"Alfred, we're fine," he murmured and knocked their heads together, petting Alfred's hair. "We're fine…" he soothed.

"Yeah," Alfred mumbled. "Yeah…"

~a~

_ Jones, Mr. Jones. Can you hear me?_

Yes, he wanted to say. The voice was far away. Why was he talking to him?

_ Mr. Jones, follow my instructions, please._

He wanted to nod.

_ Can you tell me what you've been seeing?_

He wanted to speak, but he couldn't hear himself. Where was he?

_ Who's Arthur?_

Arthur…Arthur. He was everything. He was what Alfred needed. Where was Arthur?

_ Mr. Jones, please relax. Arthur is right here. Can you feel him holding your hand?_

No, Alfred wanted to say. He wanted to get out of here and look for Arthur, but then he felt pressure and warmth on his hand. Arthur was here…

_ Good. Now please, tell me how you met him._

Oh, that wasn't a very long story. But it was—

~a~

Alfred opened his eyes. He was in his room. The superhero posters, the batman figurines, his desk and his closet and his messy floor. What time was it? This room…it was years ago. Back when he was going through high school. Wasn't he out of college now? Working an office job, living with Arthur.

Arthur.

Where was Arthur?

Alfred ripped the covers off him and bolted out the door, down the stairs. The smell of breakfast wafted into his olfactory senses and he went into the kitchen.

"Mattie! Where's Arthur?"

His brother looked up from the pan and a look of confusion crossed his face before it disappeared. "Alfred, you're at home. It's the morning. Why would you think Arthur would be here at this time of day?"

Alfred smiled sheepishly. Matthew made sense. "Haha, I guess so. Sorry." He pulled out a chair, the legs scraping against the tiled floor. They both winced slightly at the sound. "What are we having today?"

"I made eggs, but if you want pancakes or waffles I can make those, too." Matthew scooped up the food onto a plate and placed it on the table.

"Naw, it's fine. Your eggs are delicious!"

Matthew sat down across from Alfred, and had an unreadable expression on his face, regarding Alfred through his eyes.

"'nything wrong, Mattie?" Alfred spoke through his first bite of his breakfast.

Matthew blinked and looked down at his own plate. "No…no, nothing's wrong. Just eat."

"M'kay," Alfred mumbled and shrugged.

After they finished, Alfred hurriedly went upstairs to change. It still felt weird that he was back home, in his childhood room, when he should be out and living by himself, with Arthur. He shrugged the feeling off and slipped an arm through his jacket, opening the door.

"Where are you going?"

Alfred turned around and looked at Matthew. "To meet Arthur!"

Matthew bit his lips, as if he had something he wanted to say, but couldn't. Alfred stared a while longer, until he began to frown. He couldn't be thinking…

"Mattie, I'm _fine. _You've met Arthur already, haven't you?" He gave Matthew a stern gaze, making his brother shrink back and look to the floor.

"Y-yeah…" He nodded. "I have…"

"There! See, you know he's a good guy, right? There's nothing wrong. Not anymore." Alfred tried hard not to sound as if he was pleading in that last line.

"Have…have fun," Matthew finally said, looking up and smiling. The ends of his lips twitched.

"Yeah, of course! I'll be home in a bit!"

As soon as the door closed, Matthew's lips pulled downwards and he bit the inside flesh. His eyes blurred, even as he frantically rubbed at them with the sleeve of his hoodie.

_ He didn't know Arthur. And never will._

~a~

Reality was never nice to Alfred. He never liked it. But he thought he could bear with it if it meant he could be with Arthur.

He walked down the street and passed friends, neighbors, people he had seen around. "Hey! Do you know where Arthur is?" he'd ask. Some of them would look at him sadly, which irritated him to no end, and others would just say, _No, they didn't. _Sometimes, a few would say that they saw him pass by a while ago, but forget just how long. Alfred thanked them and continued on his way.

_ He wasn't crazy. He wasn't crazy. They just didn't __**understand. **_

He walked for a little more, until he arrived at the bridge overlooking the river and he saw a shock of messy hair, the young man leaning against the side of the bridge. Alfred grinned and started jogging over.

"Arthur!"

He turned at the sound of his name, and when he saw Alfred, his lips lifted into a soft smile.

"Hello," he murmured.

Alfred slammed into him and wrapped him in a tight hug, his smile against Arthur's skin. "I thought you disappeared," he sighed.

"You idiot," Arthur whispered, petting Alfred's hair. "Why would I do that?"

"I don't know, I don't know…" Alfred tightened his grip and Arthur grunted.

"You're going to kill me."

"But I don't want to let you go."

_ He was real. Arthur was definitely real. Alfred can __**feel **__him. Alfred knew it. _

Arthur pushed him away and smiled, saying something but Alfred couldn't hear. Why wasn't Arthur making sound? He was toying with Alfred; how was he to know how to lip-read?

Alfred teased, "Come on, now, Arthur, I can't hear you."

Arthur's lips continued to move, then stopped, his forehead scrunching into a frown. He stared at Alfred, his lips moving more frantically now and coming closer.

Was he saying _Alfred? _What was he saying? Why did he look so frantic?

Then, he was falling…his vision was twisting, Arthur—Arthur, above him, calling—

~a~

_ Mr. Jones, Mr. Jones! Calm down. Take a deep breath, deep breath, that's right. Good, good. _

Where's Arthur?

_ He's right here. You're all right._

Yeah…yeah. Arthur. Alfred squeezed his hand.

_ So you met him when you were in high school?_

Alfred nodded. He didn't know if he did it for sure, though. Was this reality? He never knew.

_ How long have you known each other?_

How…long… He didn't know. He really didn't know. He met him in high school…he was in high school…no, he was in college. Didn't he say he was working already?

He lived with Arthur. He lived with Arthur. It was _real. _They were _real. _No one could say Alfred was wrong anymore. Arthur was real.

'_Alfred, come to your senses, honey. You're not right. You need to separate reality from your dreams. You __**live **__in reality. Not your dreams, dear. Now, listen to me—'_

No, no. NO. _They _were wrong. _They _didn't know what was real. _They _were crazy. Not him, not him, not him!

—_Jones, Mr. Jones! Arthur is right here; he's real. He's real. Don't worry. Don't listen to those other people. They don't understand._

Yeah…yeah. They didn't understand. They didn't know anything.

_ Good, good. Alfred—can I call you Alfred?—think. Think, where were you last with Arthur?_

~a~

"We're fine," Arthur continued to murmur, his petting of Alfred's hair soothing the man. "We're fine."

"We'll be together," Alfred added.

"Yes…"

~a~

"Alfred! Golly, are you all right?"

"Haha! What are you talking about? Of course I am!"

Arthur wrapped both hands around Alfred's arm and tugged, pulling the larger boy up. "Don't scare me like that!"

"I'm sorry," Alfred said, a smile on his face. "I didn't mean to."

Arthur glared at him, but it soon melted into a distressed expression as he hugged Alfred. "Don't scare me like that…"

"I'm sorry," Alfred repeated, patting Arthur's back, smoothing his hair, anything reassuring.

_ Alfred, come back. You're wrong. __**This **__is real. __**We **__are real. See, you can feel us, our warmth. _

"We're real," Alfred mumbled.

"Yes, we are…"

_ You need to separate them, Alfred._

~a~

The door closed and Matthew peeked around the corner to see Alfred leaning against the wall, pulling off his shoes.

"Welcome back," he said.

Alfred looked up, surprised. "Oh, hey! Didn't know you were there. Thanks."

Matthew watched as Alfred walked past him. "How…was your day with Arthur?"

"Splendid! I'm tired, since we walked around and stuff. I'ma go to sleep, 'kay, Mattie?"

Matthew had his mouth opened to ask another question, but he resignedly nodded and let Alfred head to bed.

_ When was he going to wake up?_

_ ._

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_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________it was dark. He reached out an arm, reaching, reaching, was he reaching?_

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ .  
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_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Arthur. Where was Arthur?_


	2. Chapter 2

_August 5, 2012_

_Last part. It's my first time dabbling with a insanity!fic, so please leave me your thoughts on how it went. Thanks!  
_

* * *

**Reality, Enough – II**

Arthur's petting motions were therapeutic. Alfred loved the soft tugs against his scalp as Arthur ran his fingers through his slightly tangled hair. Alfred snuggled his face into Arthur's chest, snaking his arms around the man's waist, and exhaled deeply. This was real.

"I'm not going crazy, am I?" Alfred mumbled.

"What?" Arthur's hand stopped. "What makes you think that?" He resumed his petting.

"Because you're right here. You're even better than my dreams ever were."

Arthur thumped a knuckle lightly against Alfred's head, making him flinch in reflex. "Ow…" Arthur rubbed his thumb in circles over the spot.

"You're an idiot," Arthur said, a smile tugging at his lips. "But maybe you are crazy. Why in the world would you want to be with someone like me?" His voice trailed softly.

Alfred almost toppled the both of them over in his haste to look Arthur in the eye. He scrambled to up, kneeling on the couch, as he clasped his hands on Arthur's cheeks and stared right into those shocked, green eyes. "You're my everything," Alfred said. "If it means that I have to go crazy just to be with you like this, then I gladly will."

Arthur looked as if he couldn't believe Alfred's words…until he smiled and his fist met Alfred's chest in a false punch. Alfred's hands loosened, and he tilted Arthur's face…they both stared at their lips…he wanted it…they wanted it…Arthur…

Their eyelids slipped closed and Alfred could feel Arthur's breath and they were so close…

~a~

_The world was rattling. _

His head hurt.

_Why was the whole world shaking?_

He couldn't see.

_Where was Arthur?_

~a~

_Jones! Alfred! Don't, don't fall asleep yet. _

Where was he?

_Please, tell me more about Arthur._

Why?

_He—he—_

Wasn't he right here?

_Well, yes. Of course. But you could tell us the story?_

He wanted to smile. Was he smiling? It wasn't that long of a story…

~a~

Someone was shaking him. Oh, maybe that was why the world was shaking. Stop…his head hurt…

"Alfred, wake _up!" _

"Nn…"

"We're going to be late!"

"Nnffff…or what?"

"School! Gosh, come _on!"_

Alfred blearily opened his eyes and saw Matthew's irritated face glaring down at him.

Why was he back here? He graduated a long time ago…didn't he?

"In a minute…"

"No! Get up!"

When Alfred refused to budge, Matthew seemed to have given up, as he froze for a moment. Then, in his usual soft voice, he asked, "Don't you want to see—Arthur?"

Arthur? Oh yeah, Arthur was here, too.

"Okay, okay."

Once they got to school, Alfred felt out of place. Why was everyone so shocked to see him there? He gripped his bag strap tighter, but he held his posture, ignoring the whispers and side glances. Why was he even coming here?

To see Arthur.

"Alfred! Man!"

Alfred wasn't expecting that thump to his back and stumbled forward a few steps.

"I haven't seen you in forever! Are you alright, dude?"

Alfred turned around to see one of his classmates. "Yeah…? Why wouldn't I be fine?"

The boy looked confused. "Well…after…" He caught sight of Matthew's half-glare and trailed off.

Alfred raised his eyebrow. "Okay, whatever. Have you seen Arthur?"

The boy's eyes grew wide. "Ar—thur?"

"Yeah. I haven't seen him in a while."

"I…I, no, I haven't."

~a~

Alfred walked over to the garden, the one that Arthur loved to tend in his club. It wasn't much of a club, as only two or three people showed up from time to time. Alfred always visited Arthur there whenever he had time.

As he approached, he saw a small, amateur engravement on the cement wall.

_To Arthur_

_We'll Make Our Own Reality_

_You'll Always Be_

The last line was unfinished, the new word only a bunch of scratches and lines. A feeling of dread pooled in Alfred's stomach as he read the words. Something nagged at him, his head hurting. This wasn't real…where was Arthur? Arthur…

_Dead._

_Alfred, come back to us._

_Please, listen to me, dear. Alfred, he's not __**real. **_

No, no, no—Alfred clutched his head and screamed, falling to his knees.

~a~

Alfred snapped open his eyes to see Arthur's peaceful expression, asleep next to him on their bed. Alfred smiled, wriggled closer, and planted a kiss on Arthur's lips. His hands were shaking. It was only a dream.

Alfred didn't know he was squeezing Arthur until he woke up with a grunt. "…Alfred?"

He looked up and saw a frown on Arthur's face.

"You're killing me," Arthur breathed out.

"Oh, sorry." Alfred relaxed his grip only slightly, reluctant to let Arthur go.

"It's all right, love," Arthur murmured.

"You're real, right?"

"Yes; how many times do I have to tell you?"

"Sorry," Alfred mumbled against Arthur's shoulder. "But this is the only time that reality is better than my dreams." He breathed in, and sighed, "I love you."

Arthur only smiled and pushed Alfred back to kiss him.

~a~

They were whispering. They were whispering beside him. About him.

What were they saying? Alfred furrowed his brows and tried to listen, but he didn't know if he actually moved. The place was dark, the voices far away.

—_I'm afraid he…cured…_

Sobbing. He heard sobbing.

_No! Please…him._

_Mrs. —ones, for him right now, his dreams…better than real..ty. _

_Are there…no more ways? None…at all?_

_No, I'm afraid not. He has nothing left, so he…live in…world that is far better than anything he can…here._

More sobbing. Why was she crying?

_No…no. Alfred, dear, please! Won't you come back for your mom? Dad? Mattie?_

Of course he will…why wouldn't he? He loved them…but why didn't she say Arthur?

_No, no! Forget about Arthur, Alfred! Forget about…him…_

He couldn't do that. He needed Arthur. Arthur _understood._

And she continued to cry.

~a~

Arthur had called him in the middle of the night, an hour ago. Alfred ran down the street as fast as he could, silently begging Arthur to stop. To please, please, _please. _Don't do it.

Alfred's chest hurt, he was breathing so hard.

"_Alfred, were you asleep?"_

"_Mm…yeah…"_

His legs hit the pavement hard, but he couldn't stop running.

"_Sorry. I just wanted to talk to you."_

_Alfred smiled. "Couldn't you have talked to me tomorrow?"_

"…_I suppose…"_

His quads were burning…he couldn't slow down.

"_Haha, naw, it's alright. Was there anything you wanted to say?"_

"…_no, not really."_

_Alfred didn't realize anything. "Hmm…is there anything you want to talk about?"_

How could he not have noticed anything? Damn it!

"_No…but, could you keep talking?"_

"_Huh?"_

"_You should be able to, right? You do it all the time."_

_Arthur usually yelled at him to shut up, though… "So you finally realize how wonderful my voice is?"_

Alfred pumped his fists harder. Please, Arthur, _please._

_Arthur chuckled hollowly. "Yeah, I guess you could say that."_

_Alfred smiled, and started to talk. "Well, then! I could tell you about all those Marvel comics, and DC comics, or if you want, I could tell you about the wonderful sport of football."_

_Arthur didn't reply. _

"_You see, football is like, the epitome of American-ness! You've got to watch it. It's all about being American. Oh, and did you know that I used to think you're a stuck-up, know-it-all Brit? You always act so stuffy, you know. But that's what I love about you. You don't know how to socialize whatsoever and—"_

_Alfred cut himself off when he heard something fall on the other line. It was a hollow sound, with a bunch of tiny clinks following it, like small pieces falling to the ground, out of their jar._

"_Arthur? You alright?"_

"_Y—yeah, I'm fine. Keep going."_

"_Hey, are you sure? What are you doing?"_

"_Nothing, don't worry."_

"_No, seriously. What are you doing?" _

"_Nothing you need to worry about."_

"_Arthur."_

"…_it's fine. Just, please, let me hear your voice."_

"_You're not…you can't be…Arthur, don't tell me you're—"_

"_No, no. Of course not, Al. You're thinking too much." His voice was shaking._

"_Art, don't do anything. Don't. I'm coming over right now. Don't you try it. Please. Wait for me. I'm coming. Right now." As Alfred spoke, he was throwing off his covers and one-handedly pulling on jeans and his belt. _

"_No, Alfred! Don't come…don't…"_

"_Now listen to me, Arthur, I need you. I love you. Don't do this to me." _

_The reply he heard was no more than a mumble: "Then why aren't you standing up for me?"_

_Louder, Arthur said, "Don't come." And the call was ended._

Alfred's heart was pounding, both from running so hard and from the terror. He repeatedly pressed the doorbell, hearing it ring inside, but no one came to the door. The car was gone, so he knew Arthur's parents had left him for something, again.

Next, he pounded the door. "Arthur! Open the door!" He didn't care that he would be waking the neighbors. "_Arthur!"_

Frantically, he looked for the spare key. He hoped they had hidden it outside, since his parents had left. He lifted flower pots and haphazardly placed them back down, until he finally found the key stashed inside the dirt.

He burst through the door and ran to the kitchen, switching on the dim, yellow-white light. Arthur was on the floor, his face pale, the small medicine container opened and empty, next to a glass of water with a few sips left.

"What are you thinking!? I told you not to do this!" Alfred ripped out his phone and dialed the emergency. "You'll be fine, you'll be fine…" Alfred chanted, trying to reassure Arthur, but really, it was for himself.

"Al…fred, come here," Arthur breathed, a sad smile on his face. Alfred complied and leaned down, but not after he knew that he had alerted the ambulance.

"Arthur, oh, Arthur, why?"

"I'm a coward, that's why. I even had to take _pills _to do it."

"No," Alfred sobbed. "No, no! You're not a coward. You're the best. You're the best for _me."_

Arthur shook his head.

"I love you, I love you," Alfred repeated frantically.

"I do, too. I do," Arthur said. "But I can't take it anymore." His voice trailed off, and his head lolled.

"Arthur?" Alfred shook him. "Arthur!" His eyes were still opened, but they didn't see. He couldn't see Alfred anymore, he couldn't see anything. Not anymore.

"_Arthur!"_

He was crying, hyperventilating. This wasn't happening, this wasn't happening.

He held onto Arthur, rocking him, clinging onto him. This wasn't real. No, this wasn't real.

The sirens came, the police came, Arthur was hurriedly taken away. Someone helped Alfred stand up, asking him questions, but he didn't hear. This wasn't real. This wasn't real.

_This __was __**real.**_

~a~

_Listen, Mr. Jones. You can't live like this forever. _

Live like what?

_We need you to open your eyes, slowly. Come, try it._

Open his eyes? He tried. His eyelids were heavy. Then, he saw light. It was so bright, too bright.

_Oh, Alfred, "_dear!" The sound was getting closer, too.

"Alfred, can you hear us?"

He nodded.

"Can you see us?"

He squinted, and said, "Yeah." Was that his voice? It was so raspy.

"Oh, Alfred!"

"Where's Arthur?"

His mother bit her lip. "Alfred, forget about him."

"Why? _Why? _Where is he?" His vision was getting clearer. He was in a room…was he in a hospital?

"He's not real, dear."

"Of course he's real!" He looked around frantically. "Where is he?"

"Alfred." It was that voice. It was him.

Alfred rounded on him. "You! You said Arthur was here!"

The man, doctor?, didn't look guilty at all. "He isn't, not anymore."

"No, no. I'm dreaming. This is a nightmare. You guys are lying. You're not real. When I wake up, Arthur will be by my side. Yes, how do I wake up?"

"Alfred…you're already awake."

"No! This isn't _real, _can't you see? I'm just _dreaming, _like they always say. I've finally found Arthur. They'll be happy when I wake up!" Alfred smiled. "Can't you see? They kept telling me my dreams weren't real. Okay, fine. That's fine, since I have Arthur now. So let me wake up already!"

"Oh, honey," his mom sobbed. "Dear, oh, please, you're already awake."

"No!" Alfred thrashed and tried to get out. Didn't people always wake up when they're about to die in dreams? When they're falling…when they're hit…yes, that's what Alfred needed to do.

He pushed the doctors and nurses out of his way, thinking of what he could do to wake himself up. He ran outside, and that's when he saw a car. His feet shook, terrified, but _it was only a dream, wasn't it? He'll wake up. _

"Alfred!_ No!_"

He ran. The car screeched and swerved, clinching him at the side and he spun and fell, his head smacking onto the pavement. People screamed and he heard thumping…feet on the ground.

_Weird. This was longer than usual. Shouldn't he have snapped out of this before the car made impact?_

_He was going to wake up soon._

~a~

"Alfred! Quit scaring me like that!"

Alfred's eyes opened, his body feeling heavy. "Arthur…?"

"Yes," Arthur said, exasperated. "You were screaming again."

"Was I?"

"Mm…" Arthur was petting him again. Alfred smiled.

"They said you weren't real," Alfred explained. Arthur was accustomed to Alfred's use of _'they'._

"Don't worry, love," Arthur soothed. "I'm right here."

"Yeah…yeah." Alfred breathed in Arthur's scent. He couldn't possibly be gone. "You're real, you're real."

"Yes," Arthur replied, "Yes, I'm right here."

And Alfred pulled him close, hugging him tightly. This was real. Arthur was _real. _They were lying to him. How could this _not_be _**real?**_

Alfred smiled as he rubbed into Arthur's chest.

~a~

'_Coma?'_

_Yes, he has slipped into a coma._

'_Will he ever wake up?'_

_The chances are…unlikely. In that world, Arthur is still alive. That world is __**real **__to him. On the other hand, we, those of us here, are more likely to be the dream. He has flipped reality with his dreams, because that is where Arthur lives. _

_That is his __**reality**__ now._

_.  
_

_.  
_

_"If it means that I have to go crazy just to be with you like this, then I gladly will."_


End file.
